Page 17 of Into the Starlight (Secrets of Sweetwater Crossing #3)

Chapter Seventeen

Midnight. Joanna frowned as she looked at her watch. She should have been asleep hours ago, but the memory of Burke’s anguish when he’d told her what had happened to Edna’s mother and the blame he’d accepted kept her tossing and turning. When she’d finally admitted that she wouldn’t sleep, she’d lit her lamp and attempted to read, but the novel that she’d found fascinating yesterday held no appeal tonight.

Poor Burke! Joanna’s heart ached at the thought of what he’d endured. Burke would never deliberately harm a patient. It wasn’t simply that he would have been violating his Hippocratic oath. He would also have been betraying his own innate integrity.

She could understand Edna’s grief, but where was Burke’s partner in all this? The fact that Burke did not want to return to Alabama made Joanna believe that their friendship had been irrevocably damaged, and that was almost as tragic as Mrs. Arnold’s death.

She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that Burke would find some peace in what she’d told him. It was important—no, it was essential—that he forgive himself.

She wouldn’t refer to the conversation again, because that might revive memories Joanna hoped he would put aside, but if Burke did, she would do her best to reassure him. Even if they never spoke of it again, she would do everything she could to show Burke that she trusted him. More than that, she wanted him to know that she cared for him. Deeply.

“Did something happen over the weekend?”

Della’s question made Burke blink in surprise. His honorary aunt had waylaid him—that was the only word to describe what had happened—when he’d left his room and invited him into hers. Now they were seated on her veranda when he would have preferred to be downstairs waiting for Emily to serve breakfast.

“Why do you think something happened?” Answering a question with another one sometimes distracted Della enough that she’d go on a tangent.

“Because you’ve looked more relaxed the last couple days. I haven’t seen you this much at peace since before Felix came to Samuels.” She pursed her lips. “I never did think it was a good idea to have two doctors.”

This was the first time Della had expressed any concerns. “Why didn’t you tell me that before I agreed that he should be my partner?”

Della’s smile was wry. “Would you have listened to me?”

“Probably not. Felix was my friend as well as a good doctor. It made sense to have him as my partner.”

“Even though he stole your girl?”

A month ago, Burke might have flinched at the memory. Today he only shrugged. “Felix may have done me a favor. If Edna was so easily stolen, she wasn’t the right woman for me.”

“On that we’re agreed.” Della laid her hand on Burke’s and gave it a small squeeze. “I know you well enough to say that you won’t confirm this, but I suspect that the reason you’re finally at peace is because you’ve found the right woman ... right here in Sweetwater Crossing.”

It was a quiet Monday morning, one month and a day since she’d returned and since Burke and Della had arrived in Sweetwater Crossing, a month that had brought changes Joanna had not anticipated, including the new life nestled beneath her heart. She smiled as she walked south on Center Street, thinking of the changes that were yet to come.

Her morning sickness had ended, and her body had begun to change shape. Soon she’d need to let out seams or buy new clothes. Gertrude had offered her some of her larger shirtwaists, but the skirts she’d worn when she was expecting her baby were inches too short for Joanna. It was time to visit the town’s dressmaker. If Thelma Scott had nothing ready-made, she’d sew what Joanna needed, but there was one stop on Joanna’s list before she went there.

“Good morning.” Della rose from behind her desk when Joanna entered the library. “Of course you’re welcome to browse, but I’m surprised to see you. I thought you’d be with Louisa and Burke.”

“They’re out calling on patients.” Which gave Joanna time for this much overdue visit, since Miss Heppel wasn’t expecting her until this afternoon. “I feel remiss that I haven’t been here before. I have no excuse.”

“And no particular reason to come. After all, you have more books at home than we do here, and if you simply wanted to talk, there are plenty of opportunities at Finley House.”

Joanna smiled at Della’s attempt to make her feel comfortable. It was no wonder that the library was far busier than it had been when Emily’s friend Alice had been in charge. Della’s warm welcome and genuine desire to help others would encourage almost everyone to return.

“But I wanted to come, if only to see what changes you’ve made. Mrs. Carmichael said I wouldn’t recognize the library.”

Della chuckled. “As you can see, that’s an exaggeration. All I did was rearrange a few things.”

The shelves that had been placed perpendicular to the back wall now lined it, making it easier to read the titles and providing space for the biggest change, a small seating area designed to invite patrons to linger.

“These chairs and table are new.” The few nicks and scratches on the low table did not detract from its appeal but confirmed that it was meant to be used. So did the slightly worn arms on the upholstered chairs. The overall effect was as welcoming as Della herself.

“I found them in what had been Alice’s living quarters and believed they’d be better served here,” Della explained. “I thought patrons might want to read a few pages before borrowing a book. And when we’re not busy, some stay for a bit of conversation. I never thought a library had to be a silent place.”

“I agree. Do many people come just to talk to you?”

“Some.” When a blush stole onto Della’s face, Joanna suspected that Harold was one of them. The rumor mill had reported that he was a frequent visitor to the library, provoking speculation that he was interested in more than books.

Harold was not the reason Joanna had come. She walked to the shelves, fingered a few titles, trying to decide where to start.

“You’re not looking for a book, are you?”

Joanna turned. “No. I wanted to talk to you away from Finley House.”

“Then come sit down, and we’ll talk.” When they were both seated in the comfortable chairs, Della said, “Let me guess. You’re going to apologize because you haven’t discovered what happened to Clive.”

Was the woman clairvoyant? “How did you know?”

“Burke and I had a similar discussion a few weeks ago. I’ll tell you what I told him—being here has accomplished more than I expected. Living in Finley House has given me the opportunity to say goodbye to Clive.”

Della fiddled with the watch she kept pinned to her bodice, something Joanna had noticed she did when she wanted a moment to think. “I realized I’d never done that. Oh, I knew he wasn’t coming back, but seeing the town he loved and meeting some of the people he knew has been good for me. Now I can truly accept that Clive was part of my past and that it’s time to decide what I want my future to be.” Her eyes reflected uncertainty. “Does that make sense?”

“It does. Listening to you makes me realize that I should do the same thing. Nothing will bring Kurt back. I need to plan for the future.”

Della’s relief that she’d been understood was obvious. She reached out and touched Joanna’s hand briefly. “It seems to me you’ve already begun to do that. Helping Louisa and Burke’s patients is a wonderful use of your talent. And, of course, you have your baby to look forward to. Babies are such a joy.” Della’s eyes grew misty. “I would love to hold him or her.”

“I hope you’ll be here to help me spoil him.” Joanna smiled, picturing Della and Mrs. Carmichael serving as substitute grandmothers. “I saw you raise your eyebrows when I said ‘him.’ Emily and Louisa keep reminding me that the baby could be a girl, but I’m convinced I’m having a boy.”

This time it was Joanna who extended her hand to touch Della. “I may be speaking out of turn, but I don’t believe I’m the only one who wants you to become a permanent resident of Sweetwater Crossing.” She paused, wondering whether she should continue, then decided she might as well. “I’ve heard that our minister is a frequent visitor here and that he stays longer than most.”

Another blush colored Della’s cheeks. “I was afraid people would talk, but Harold said we shouldn’t worry about gossip. He and I discuss books, flowers, favorite foods, even local politics. The subject doesn’t matter. Simply being with him is invigorating.” Della bit her bottom lip in a gesture that confirmed her uneasiness. “Oh, Joanna, I sound like an infatuated schoolgirl, don’t I?”

Joanna shook her head. “I’d say you sound like a woman who’s attracted to a very good man.”

Once again, Della appeared relieved by Joanna’s words. “It’s hard to explain, but the way I feel reminds me of when Clive and I were courting. It’s similar and yet different, perhaps because I’m old now.”

“Not old. Older, more mature, and probably wiser.” It seemed strange to be giving romantic advice to an older woman, yet another example of how different everything was since Joanna had returned to Sweetwater Crossing.

Della stared at the door, perhaps wondering whether Harold would soon open it. “There are times when I believe what I feel is love, but I’m too old for that, aren’t I?”

“Definitely not.” Joanna infused her words with conviction, wanting to reassure this woman who’d lost her first love. No matter what Gertrude said, second loves could be wonderful. “We’re never too old to fall in love.” She paused for a second, giving Della time to absorb her declaration. “You didn’t ask, but I’ll volunteer my opinion anyway. I think Harold feels the same way about you. I saw the attraction between you two the day he had Sunday dinner at Finley House and flooded his plate with gravy because he was looking at you and not the potatoes. From what I can tell, that attraction has only grown.”

Looking both unconvinced and hopeful, Della stared at Joanna as if trying to assess her sincerity. “Do you really think so?”

“I do.”

“I’m glad you were with me today,” Louisa said when she and Burke returned to the office. “This was the first time I’ve encountered a rash like Mrs. Miller’s.”

Louisa removed her hat and took her seat behind the desk, relaxing for the first time since they’d left the saloon owner’s home. Though she’d done her best to maintain a neutral expression while Burke assessed their patient, he’d seen the tension in Louisa’s shoulders when she’d realized that the training she’d received hadn’t prepared her for today.

“I wouldn’t tell her, but that was the most severe case of lichen I’ve seen. Usually there’s only a slight fever, and the pimples are not so inflamed.” Burke settled into the chair across from Louisa and crossed his legs at the ankles. Like Louisa, he was glad to be back here. While it was satisfying to alleviate someone’s pain, Burke appreciated a respite between patients.

“The zinc ointment should reduce the itching, and an alkaline bath each night will allow her to sleep more easily,” he told Louisa. Mrs. Miller had summoned her because of the rash, which was accompanied by intense itching and stinging.

“Your treatments are better than the whiskey her husband prescribed.” Now that they were away from the Miller residence, Louisa didn’t attempt to hide her amusement at the thought that three shots of whiskey could cure a severe rash.

“I’ll have you know that whiskey has its uses.” Burke adopted a professorial tone. “Why, I’ve cleansed countless wounds with it.”

“Yes, of course, but that’s not what Mr. Miller suggested.” Louisa feigned lifting a glass to her mouth, then burst into laughter.

Burke shared her mirth. “What did you expect from a saloon owner? He believes whiskey should be imbibed.”

“Just as Mr. Oberle believes beer is the only acceptable beverage. I’m surprised he didn’t offer us any.”

When they’d called on him and Mrs. Oberle before returning to town to see Mrs. Miller, Burke had been surprised by the pervasive smell of beer, though he’d seen no sign of any inside the house.

“I suspect Mr. Oberle realized that morning was too early for a glass of beer.” Burke wouldn’t tell Louisa that Herb Oberle had admitted that his gout had subsided after he stopped drinking beer and eating so many rich meats. He’d confided that to Burke while Louisa was examining his wife and had repeated his insistence that no one in Sweetwater Crossing know that he was doing nothing more than sampling each batch of beer to ensure that it met his standards.

“Maybe.” Louisa sounded skeptical. “I’m glad I didn’t have to refuse and insult him.” She folded her hands and leaned forward on the desk, seemingly wanting to close the distance between them. “Thanks to you, I’m learning so much. Until today, I thought lichen was something that grows on a rock.”

“That’s one definition. Mrs. Miller’s rash is another.”

Louisa settled back in the chair. “Are you as pleased with Mr. Oberle’s healing as you told him?”

“I am. Even though I did everything I could to disinfect the area, there’s always a risk of infection with compound fractures and as much tissue damage as he sustained. Fortunately, there was no sign of infection today, and he was able to wiggle his fingers.”

Louisa wiggled hers, mimicking Burke’s patient. “Mr. Oberle seemed amused when you told him he might be able to predict storms once his radius healed. That’s something I hadn’t heard.”

“That may not happen to everyone, but it does to me. The site of my break aches when the weather is changing.” Burke rubbed his right forearm, which he’d dubbed his human barometer. It had been close to two decades since he’d fractured it, but though the healing had been complete, he still had periodic reminders of the injury.

Louisa’s expression turned serious as she watched Burke. “How did you break your arm? I doubt a mule crushed it.”

“Fortunately, my family had no mules. I can’t imagine what my mother would have done with one as ornery as the Oberles’.” After Burke had completed his examination, Herb Oberle had insisted on introducing him and Louisa to the animal that had caused such damage.

“My explanation is less colorful. I fell out of a tree. I was hiding from my sisters because they wanted me to attend a tea party with them and their dolls and lost my balance. They both laughed, because they thought a broken arm was an appropriate punishment for trying to avoid them.”

“But you weren’t laughing.”

“No, I wasn’t. I wouldn’t let them see me cry even though the pain was pretty bad, but I came close to it. Once the cast was on, the worst part was being unable to fish for six weeks.”

“You know how to fish?” Louisa appeared impressed by what Burke considered an ordinary skill.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Not my family. The fish in our creek are too small to eat, so no one bothered to teach us.” She gave Burke an appraising look. “I know there are larger fish in the river around five miles from here. If you really want to fish, you might want to take Joanna with you. She needs to do something more than play the piano.”

Burke nodded. A little exercise and fresh air would benefit Joanna. Time with her would benefit him. “I may do that.” And he knew where to start.

“I had an enlightening conversation with Della this morning,” Joanna told Emily, who was buttering the top of the loaf of bread prior to putting it into the oven. She wouldn’t mention the one she’d had with Miss Heppel, who appeared to have just heard about Joanna’s playing while Burke treated Mr. Oberle.

“You can tell a lot about a man by how he feels about music,” Miss Heppel had said. “Almost everyone finds the right melodies soothing, but there are exceptions. I knew Malcom wasn’t the man for me when he told me all music sounded the same to him. How could I have even considered marrying a man like that?” Then, as if she’d said too much, she’d moved to the piano bench and invited Joanna to play a duet with her.

The comment had lasted only a few seconds, but it lingered in Joanna’s memory. Was this what Gertrude had meant when she’d alluded to Miss Heppel’s trying to sway a man with music?

Emily’s chuckle brought Joanna back to the present. “I’m guessing what you and Della discussed had nothing to do with books.”

“You’re right. It didn’t. I learned that what we thought was true: there’s a definite attraction between her and our minister. I suspect all they need is a little nudge and we’ll be hearing wedding bells.”

“I’m good at nudging.” After Emily slid the loaf into the oven, she turned back to Joanna. “I think I’ll start by inviting Harold to have supper with us every Friday. That’s an evening when not many parishioners would ask him, and we have an extra spot at the table those nights because Beulah’s back on the farm. What do you think?”

“I think you’re becoming a matchmaker.”

“I’ve been called worse.” Emily reached for the carrots she planned to add to tonight’s stew and started to peel them. “We’ll see whether I have a talent for it. Once we get them on the road to matrimony, there’s another couple I want to nudge.”

“Who’s that?” Joanna wracked her brain, trying to think who would be Emily’s next target. Thelma Scott? Emily had mentioned that the dressmaker was lonely. One of the widows?

Her sister smirked. “You and Burke.”